


Charity

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Glory Holes, Kinda, M/M, Prostitution, Sex, Titty Fucking, Unsafe Sex, dick piercings, glory hole fic, that no one but yougei asked for, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5589442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you have to go where everyone knows your name. Or well, one of them at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charity

**Author's Note:**

> Blame Yougei for this sin i am faultless as always. he did some really nice art of this too so check out his tumblr (yougei.tumblr.com) and check it out.

It always started the same, with that particular itch that refused to abate.

Chrollo went through the motions of his day, his head filled with anything but the present. Faces came, went, words were spoken, exchanged, he was sure he had annoyed more than one person with his vacant expression and disinterested answers but he paid it no mind. The sun traveled across the sky and he tracked its movement above all else, so eager for the relief the night would bring if he could only go through the motions.

He stared out the window of the building they had occupied and watched the sun dip below the skyline, its color so vibrant in the monotone city. The feeling increased, needling him somewhere in the base of his spine, insistent and greedy for something he couldn’t find here. Rising to his feet, he made for the door. It would only get worse if he stayed, and he knew well enough how to make it stop.

“Where you go?” Feitan called out from a pile of pilfered blankets, looking up from his gruesome reading. “It dark soon.”

Chrollo froze, his hand on the door handle. Feitan had been so quiet and his mind so fixed on his thoughts that he had forgotten he hadn’t been alone. With a small smile he turned to his partner. “I’m a bit restless. Figured I’d stretch my legs. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be back before it gets too late.”

He was grateful that Feitan wasn’t the worrying type, simply humming and going back to his book with a dismissive wave. Sighing, he left the vacant loft and made his way down to the street, breathing in deep the night air around him. A few people milled about heedless of the late hour or the danger that only ever seemed to grow greater when the security of day bled away into night. They paid him no mind and he none to them in return. Where he was headed, there would be plenty of attention to garner.

The thought made his mouth water and he pushed on faster, making for the section of the city no self-respecting citizen would ever enter. Smog rose like a miasma and Chrollo wanted to drown in the perfume of iniquity. Slowly, he felt his lips curl into a wide smile. He had missed this, giving himself to the city that he loved in his own way.

Adoration, excitement, giddiness and want carried him through to the seediest place he had ever known, the establishment hardly deserving of the scrap it was made of. It felt like home, though, in a way hard to describe to those who felt themselves above a little sin. Chrollo loved it, let the Silver Spoon welcome him in with open arms.

Though he owed this filthy club his sanity many times over, he still pulled the collar of his shirt higher, hiding his face as he pushed through the grinding crowd for the back. On a weekday as it was, it wasn’t likely for there to be many in the rooms. He pushed past a curtain and saw he was right, grinned wider when his favorite one was vacant even. Chrollo half wondered if his regulars were still about, eager to be lucky enough to chance upon a night where he felt like being used.

As he made himself comfortable inside the small room, unbuttoning the long sleeve shirt, he struggled to recall all the names he had amassed himself in the scant two years he had had this particular hobby. They were always so fond of his voice, begging him to talk and moan and say the names they gave him as if they were real. Whisper, they called him, the Nightingale, the sweet singer through the wall who breathed like an angel and sang like a siren. The Guest, the Voice, the One on the Left. He laughed as he folded his clothing and placed it on the high shelf, opening the little cover that blocked the hole on the far side of the space. His fan club was wide, fanatic in their worship of him, and it almost made him regret not frequenting his flock more often.

And speak of the devil, his first parishioner had arrived. It came in the form of a knock, something light and polite given the tawdry situation, and Chrollo greeted the john with a low voice.

“Good evening,” he crooned through the wall, falling back into the role like no time at all had passed since his last visit. It was heady how much he had missed this, the thrill of it all. “What can I do for you?”

The man on the other side stuttered as his voice filtered through and that alone was enough to make Chrollo heat up, lean closer to the opening in wait of his first plaything. “Fuck you sound sexy, give me that mouth,” the john grunted, shoving his hard cock through the opening. “Hope it’s as sweet as you sound.”

Chrollo licked his lips and fell to his knees, grabbing into the bunch of condoms in the cubby near the floor to tear one open, roll it onto the man before he licked a line up the shaft. Humming as he went, he mouthed at the head, his lips tingling at the overwhelming warmth. “You feel so nice,” he murmured, letting the vibrations carry through the man’s cock. Even as he said it, he wished for more, for that delicious ache that came from being stretched to the point of choking.

“Shi—Shit, babe, _you_ feel nice,” the man stuttered, the loud sound of his hand bracing on the wood separator sending another jolt of pleasure through Chrollo’s frame. He thrust in and out, moaned brokenly when Chrollo opened his throat and took him in easily. “Fuck, wanna make you scream ‘round me.”

Moaning around the john, Chrollo pressed as close to the opening as he could to let the man bury himself in his throat. As he did, he reached for the lube near the condoms, always so grateful for how contentious this establishment was. He coated his fingers, dipped past his panties and began to stretch himself for the next john while he finished his first. The noises were lewd, echoing in the small space and Chrollo couldn’t get enough.

Evidently the sounds carried, the man’s frantic thrusting stuttering as he realized what he was doing beyond the wall. “Are you, fuck, babe, are you fuckin’ yourself in there? That’s so hot, fuck,” he groaned, giving one last hard piston before coming hard enough to make Chrollo’s eyes water even through the condom.

Chrollo pulled off reluctantly, missing the weight of the cock on his tongue and the taste of come. If there was one downside to these jaunts, it was the infuriating lack of contact. He’d just have to make up for it with quantity. He purred as the man wheezed for breath outside, zipped himself back up. “Thank you, handsome,” he gave, his voice low and raspy. The man only groaned, as if regretting ending so soon, and departed with a fifty slid through the slot. An offering to the voice he’d hear echoing in his dreams.

He palmed the bill, worked his fingers into himself faster and harder. If anything, he should have taken care of this before he even showed up. It wouldn’t do to make a john wait for him to get ready, even worse to push past and get fucked before he was ready to take it. A third finger slid in easily enough and Chrollo let his forehead rest against the wall in front of him, closed his eyes as the pleasure melted through him like warm gold.

So intent was he on his work, he didn’t notice the next john stepping up until another cock was jammed through the hole, the hard stiffness brushing his cheek. His eyes snapped open and he sat back up, cleared his throat to greet the new taker. Before he could even get out the first word though, the man was already talking.

“Come on bitch, I don’t got all night,” the john snapped, banging on the separator.

Chrollo sat up straighter, grinning bright. There was always one in every bunch, a rude one with no sense of patience or politeness. God he couldn’t wait to have this one converted to his masses, on his knees and praying where he belonged. He pulled his fingers from his entrance and grabbed for a condom, rolling it on as he found his voice. “Oh I’m so sorry, what can I do for you, stud?”

Like all the rest, his voice had him stalling. “Fuck, you that one bitch I hear about? With the tight ass and hot voice?” he asked, hissing as Chrollo’s cold hands slicked up his cock with lube. “Give me that ass, bitch, I wanna see if the hype is worth the cash.”

There was no hiding his predatory smile, and on some level he was sure the man could feel it through the thing separator. “Oh, anything for you since you asked so nicely,” crooned, laying it on thick as he turned around and lined the man up with his wet entrance, his panties stretched to the side. He had worked himself open pretty well, but he was sure he was still tighter than he would have been had he done the prep work at home. This was going to be fun.

“Give it to me slut, that’s it,” the man coached as Chrollo impaled himself with a low moan, thrusting in as hard as he could with only the thin wood as leverage. “What a good bitch, so hot. Wanna hold you down and make you choke with it.”

Chrollo rolled his eyes and set to making the man really feel good. He began by upping the noises, using his trademark voice to sing like the siren he was professed to be. “Oh yeah, give it to me, you’re so big,” he lied, clenching with every thrust the man made, rolling his hips in a way that he knew was devastating. “Fill me up, make me scream.”

He knew he was doing well when the john went faster, hitting the separator with every thrust he made. “Oh god, bitch, please,” he cried, his nails scratching at the wood like an animal wanting nothing more than to come inside. “So good, like they all said, you fuckin’ deliver, fuck—”

Approaching his end, Chrollo could only smile and clench harder, fucking himself back with a little twist to his hips that dragged the man over whether he was ready or not. The wood threatened to buckle under the weight of him as he plastered himself to the separator, desperate for even a sliver of contact more. Chrollo let him try, let him soften inside him as he filled the condom with his release. He stroked idly at his own half-hard cock as he waited, making little breathy noises just to hammer home his own pleasure to the rude man nearly in tears on the other side of the wall.

“I hope I was everything you thought I’d be,” he gave, punctuating it with another little moan as he pulled himself away from the wall, letting the cock fall free from him. “I hope you come again.” He knew he’d never be forgotten, not after that.

Instead of a reply, he only heard panting, the shaky sound of the man fixing his clothing and forcing himself to stand straight without the support of the separator. A crumpled hundred fell through the slot and Chrollo laughed, low and warm. He must have lived up to the hype after all.

He whispered a goodbye, though he wasn’t sure if he was heard before the man scampered off into the night. The money was tucked into his pants pocket, his panties following as he finally shucked them completely. Every move sent a delicious soreness through his body, the incessant itch finally silenced. He loved this, loved making them all shake and beg for him through the wall, the way they used him but always left wanting more. A moan broke from his lips as he stroked himself, shivering from his own potent effect on these men.

Another approached and Chrollo let go of his cock, determined not to finish just yet. The john knocked, soft and questioning, and Chrollo smiled lazily. He could already tell the type, just from that. This would be the last, and he always saved the best of himself for the one who waited the longest.

“Excuse me?” the voice came, just as shy as Chrollo knew it would be. “Are you the Singer? I heard you were in. Are you…available?”

Chrollo could hardly handle the politeness, the unerring devoutness. He would make this good, the best this one had ever had. “Yes, I suppose I am if that’s what they’ve taken to calling me now. How lucky for you, you’re my last for the night.” The words flowed like honey from his lips, every ounce of seduction poured into them to make this sweet heart shake.

The john made a noise, some choked little sound that cemented all the rumors he had no doubt heard, and the fumbled zip of his pants came next, hurried and clumsy. “Oh thank god, thank you. Please, do whatever you want,” he managed to say. “Just let me hear you, you sound so good.”

The cock pushed through the hole and Chrollo’s eyes widened, his smile so wide it made his jaw ache. “I think you look good, handsome. Did this hurt?” he asked, taking the thick cock in hand and tugging gently at the piercing fixed through the head. His hand, still covered in left over lubricant, slide down the shaft as he contemplated his choices here. The stranger was a gorgeous specimen, too lovely to just waste on some petty action. He wanted this to be memorable.

“N-not really,” came the reply, the man already gasping for breath. “You feel it for a minute, but it goes pretty quick.”

Chrollo hummed at that and decided that he really couldn’t bear the thought of letting this one go without feeling it in some way afterwards. He reached for the bottle of lubricant, ignoring the condoms entirely. “What a brave man, taking that pain. I love the look,” he crooned, not resisting the urge to give the head a quick lick, a little suck. He mouthed at the simple ring, rolled it on his tongue and moaned as the taste he had been missing the entire night coated his mouth like candy. As he did, his free hand uncapped the lube, coating his chest in the slick liquid.

He let himself lave his tongue against the head for another blessed second, pulling away after tugging at the ring until the man moaned brokenly. Navigating the shaft closer, he pressed his chest to the wall until the cock fit against his sternum.

“I’m going to need you to stay close for this one, dearest,” he gave, letting go to cup himself and hold his pecs together, forming a shallow valley. “I’ve never tried this in here, so you’re certainly a lucky, lucky boy.”

The man could only groan, his body warmth melting through the wood like there was nothing there in the first place. He thrust experimentally, going faster as he found the angle that brought him into contact with Chrollo’s mouth on every connection. From his mouth flowed praises, his desire to see Chrollo and touch him and hold him down. Chrollo was drowning in it, answering back with everything he had. “Yes, please, I want to feel you too, I want you fucking me with this cock, make me come on it,” he mewled, holding himself tighter as his own cock dripped wetly. He wasn’t sure he could get off like this but a good argument was definitely being made.

It only took another heady moan for the john to come, his hips stuttering and hands scrambling at the wood as he coated Chrollo’s chest in thick come. Some shot high enough to reach his chin, his mouth, and it was so good, so much like what he had been searching for since the restlessness found him that Chrollo could only grab his own cock, rubbing himself off to follow after.

He fell forward against the separation and gasped, the man’s spent cock somewhere next to his cheek. The piercing teased his cheekbone and he turned his head to kiss the warm metal, lapping up the man’s come with a moan. “Thank you, thank you,” he breathed, so mind-numbingly happy that he had found such a beautiful specimen to finish on.

“Why are you thanking me?” the john asked incredulously, his own voice wrecked as he reluctantly parted from Chrollo’s lips and fixed himself back inside his pants. “You are amazing, holy shit. I think you’ve ruined me, here,” he rushed, shoving a handful of bills through the slot. “Thank you, so much.”

Chrollo just grinned. “You’re very welcome. I hope I get you again.” There had to be at least three hundred dollars in the pile. “Have a nice night, handsome.”

The man parroted back the sentiment, his mind too blown to manage anything else as he left. Chrollo rested there on his knees for another moment or two, breathing and reveling in his own contentedness. With effort, he forced himself to his feet, wiping clean his chest with some ragged cloths left in the room for such purposes. He pulled on his shirt, his pants, tucking his panties into his pocket en lieu of dirtying them with the leftover lube.

As he exited onto the street, Chrollo couldn’t help but laugh. He could only wonder how many men would be going home tonight, dreaming of his touch and praying for a chance to know him. The moon was high over his head, bright and shining like a guide on his way back to the building, back to Feitan. The wad of money was a solid weight in his pocket and he stopped to toss it into the plate of a tired beggar on the street.

“Bless you, sir,” the woman coughed out, her eyes wide with the sizable donation. “Thank you, so much.”

“No need ma’am,” he chuckled. “Charity is its own reward.”

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in like 3 hours woot woot. check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved) and let me know how you liked this. until next time~


End file.
